


Safe

by Geonn



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-04
Updated: 2011-05-04
Packaged: 2017-10-18 23:06:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/194295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geonn/pseuds/Geonn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the only way she can let her guard down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safe

It's the only way Helen can allow herself her desires. It's the only way she can be vulnerable enough, relaxed enough to achieve orgasm. It's perverted and wrong, but they both receive pleasure from it. John's smile when she suggested it was almost frightening. He allows her to handcuff his wrists to the upper support of her four-poster bed. His clothing is removed by quick passes of the knife - the knife in her hand and never his. Helen shreds his shirt, careful not to knick his skin. Any sight of blood would end their game immediately. She presses against him, arms around his waist, and undoes his trousers. They fall and she fills her hand with his cock. Kissing his shoulders and the back of his neck, remembering the times of pleasure it had given her before the very sight of it made her cringe in fear.

Only once he is naked did she start to undress. She needs him to be vulnerable first. He hangs his head instead of looking at her; that's part of the rule, too. She has stopped shaking when she adjusts the straps on her hips and steps forward, and she presses against him. He leans into her. Helen has one hand on his shoulder and the other guiding her phallus against him. John grunts her name and she curses herself for forgetting. But she doesn't apologize; she never apologizes to him because he never said those words to her.

Helen spits into her hand, stroking to lubricate the tip before she attempts penetration again. She looks up and sees his hands curled tight into fists, the fingers white against his palms. She wonders if he'll break the skin. And then she's inside of him, and they both gasp at the change. He pushes back against her and Helen puts her guiding hand on his hip. She pinches hard and he stops moving.

Helen tenses her legs and moves with her hips, her thighs straining as she begins to work herself deeper. She's amazed, embarrassed, thrilled that her body has learned the technique of fucking from a masculine position. The cock, designed and manufactured by hand rather than nature, feels like an extension of her body. The harness is snug, custom made for her by James' hand. She still blushed at the thought of how he took the mold. She pushes John slightly forward, acquiring a better angle. Her arm goes around him for support and she takes advantage of the position to grip his penis. He's still throbbing, and she closes her thumb and forefinger around the base of him to prevent orgasm.

Her hair is down, framing her face. Her lips are parted and each thrust is met with a corresponding grunt. She passes her tongue over her lips as she fucks him, both of them quickly covered with sweat.

"Helen... please..."

He must beg her. Always.

She moves faster. Her harness presses between her legs, against her clit, and she moans helplessly at the ingenious design. The base of her cock presses against her as she pushes it inside. The first time she used it she shamelessly kissed James on the lips the following morning. She thrust against John until she reached orgasm, and he was almost keening her name. Each vowel was elongated, the consonants hitting hard like the ping of sleet against glass: "H-eeeeeee-l-eeeeee-n."

Helen releases her grip on him, stroking her hands up the length of his shaft. She pushes the foreskin of his cock with her fingers and, when she pulled back, he comes. She feels it on her fingers and her palm, still stroking, coating his cock with it, using her other hand to cup his balls and massage them as he twitches in her hand.

When she releases him, she steps back. Her cock falls from his body and he grunts; either at the sensation or the removal of the sensation. Helen cleans her palm with precise passes of her tongue, holding his taste in her mouth before swallowing. She had been told only whores did this sort of thing; a dollymop's morning milk. But she's come to savor it, pardon the pun.

She dresses. She tucks the cock into her tight underwear that guides it down the side of her thigh, making it almost unnoticeable in her street clothes. She wears trousers now. She buttons them and then pulls on her blouse. When she turns back, the ropes are hanging loose and her bedroom is empty. There's a frisson of fear at not knowing where he was, but she knew he was far away. She preferred not to think about what John did after these interludes.

Once she is presentable again, her hair tucked and pinned, she leaves her room. She finds James and Nikola waiting in the library. Nikola's nostrils flare - he smells the sex on her hand and between her thighs - and James passes his gaze over her - he sees the missed buttons on her blouse, the reddish tinge to her throat and cheeks, the slight dilation of her pupils, the spot of wetness on the crotch of her pants. Neither man speaks of what they sense. For that she silently thanks them as she joins them in the room.

"Gentlemen." She sits and crosses her legs. "Where were we?"


End file.
